


Assistance in Coping

by gerty_3000



Category: Hotline Miami (Video Games), Hotline Miami 2: Wrong Number
Genre: Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 09:44:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4343684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gerty_3000/pseuds/gerty_3000
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is dedicated to my panic disorder, which made me have seven panic attacks in the span of three hours. Richard = Jacket, and Rouven = Beard</p>
    </blockquote>





	Assistance in Coping

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to my panic disorder, which made me have seven panic attacks in the span of three hours. Richard = Jacket, and Rouven = Beard

There were tears running down his cheeks, but it was impossible to tell because of the rain.

He was covered in a slick sheen of sweat, but it was impossible to tell because of the rain.

The man was trembling with vigor, shaking, practically vibrating, but it wasimpossible to tell because of the rain.

Lawrence's eyes were wide, the pupils tiny pinpricks, which couldn't have been normal because it's dark out, the only light coming from the flashes of lighting. It was four o'clock in the morning and he was awoken from his fitful sleep with a panic attack, jolted out of nowhere with hyperventilation and silent, strangled cries for help. He couldn't speak, it wasn't in his nature to, but he desperately wanted to shout and scream and rip his throat open with shrieks for anything.

But instead, he threw on a tank top and went outside of the tent, staring blankly off into the muddy ground and watching as raindrops caused tiny impacts, upsetting the layer of water. He breathed so hard through his nose that it pulled in the rain from his upper lip and caused pain deep in his skull, to accompany the terrible, horrible headache pounding in his brain; clawing behind his eyes and pushing at them, making them feel like they'd pop out. The only noise he's made in at least 3 months is a sharp, pitched sound at the back of his throat, making itself known with every desperate inhale, every shaky exhale.

He wasn't sure what awoke his friend. He wasn't sure if it was a particularly loud burst of thunder, or his own, personal demons. Richard could hear him stirring though; it was a quiet, unnoticeable sound to most, but he'd been standing out there for a while, he'd gotten used to the rain and cracks of thunder, and knew the silence inside the tent well enough that he could hear the sounds of someone waking. 

And he knew it was Rouven, because, who else could it be? Barnes and Daniels had their own issues, but they never woke up in the middle of the night because of them. They drank themselves incoherent, not exactly drowning their sorrows, but definitely giving them a run for their money. Richard took in a shaky breath, feeling weak in the knees as he felt more tears well up in his eyes. It wasn't fair, he'd just managed to get a lid on them, but they spilled over his lower eyelids and mingled with the raindrops hitting his cheeks. 

The flap of the tent opened, and out popped his shorter friend, glasses haphazardly sitting on his nose and orange hair a wiry mess. Richard watched him out of the corner of his eyes, not able to turn his head. He felt locked into place, still trembling ferociously, but his muscles were tense, clenched to the point of cramping and he couldn't focus on unclenching them. Rouven noticed him straight away, though, because, how couldn't he? He was right there, the only interesting thing to look at. He was by the other man's side in an instant, hand gently grazing the trembling forearm, fingers curling around it in a firm, forgiving grip.

It helped.

It helped more than any other form of breathing exercise or 'look at 5 objects' routine. It helped calm him, but what was already building up for hours had practically erupted out of him, prompted by the touch, but not by Rouven. Richard drew in a sharp breath, making an unattractive noise as he doubled over, bent at the waist, knees buckling and he would have fallen over entirely if the strong hands weren't on his shoulders, not able to totally hoist him up, but definitely keep the larger man from faceplanting in the mud. 

The words that tumbled out were a surprise, incoherent, gibberish. Richard was babbling, speaking for the first time in three months, though, to be fair, the only thing he said three months ago was "That's not OK."

Rouven couldn't understand him, but he knew how to help. He spoke soothing words, somehow gentle as he forced the heavier man to stand up again, if only to brace himself, and let Richard collapse on him, holding the brunt of his weight while the other man sobbed uncontrollably, a mix of hyperventilating and speaking. Rouven had wrapped his arms around him, though, holding very tight, as tight as he could manage, feeling how Richard's chest fought against the hold with sharp breaths.

It was a panic attack that lasted longer than the usuals- normally, Richard would only hyperventilate anywhere from thirty seconds to three minutes, but this seemed like a particularly harsh one. He was sobbing, making himself lightheaded from too much oxygen but he couldn't stop inhaling, holding his breath, and trying to inhale more. His lungs burned, his throat ached and his head was swimming, vision blurry not just from tears. His nails dug into Rouven's back, causing a sharp sting in the other man, but he needed to ground himself. 

"This isn't real." He said, voice high and the terror was nearly palpable. "None of thi- i- i-is is real!" 

Rouven just shushed Richard , reaching up and threading his fingers through the soaked blond hair, massaging his scalp, murmuring reassurances in his ear. It would be okay, this was real, they were really there on Earth. It helped. It was either the sound of his voice or the arms around him or the actual words being said, but it was really a mix of all three, and Richard slowly started to calm down, his breaths being drawn in slower, his words tapering off to soft whimpers. He was still trembling violently, still crying, but the spike of actual panic seemed to fade, practically melting away in Rouven's hold. He felt heavy, very, very heavy, like a comforter made for winter was drawn over his brain. His eyelids drooped and he slumped against the other man, now breathing normally, even slower than normal.

"Come on... Let's get dried off." Rouven said softly, shifting his hold on the other soldier so that he could slip his arm around his waist and help him hobble back inside the tent. Barnes and Daniels had remarkably stayed asleep, though, to be fair, they'd both gotten drunk off their asses the night before. Rouven was quick to strip out of his own clothes. Richard was struggling, his underwear clung to him and his hands were shaking so bad he couldn't get a good grip on the hem. 

He was grateful for his friend, because his friend went over to him, tugging off his sopping, weighed-down clothing with gentle care. They had seen each other naked so many times it hardly mattered, not like it mattered in the first place, and Rouven fetched them both a towel, patting himself dry, then giving it to Richard. The other man seemed calm enough to do that, and thankfully, he was. While he shakingly dried himself, the bearded man went to their trunks, grabbing a fresh change of underwear for himself, then giving one to the other soldier.

They were silent, now, as they redressed, and went to Rouven's bed without any need to welcome, or ask for permission, respectively. The bearded soldier climbed in first, scooting all the way to the edge to allow enough room for his friend, and he was soon to join, arms wrapping around Rouven and pulling him in close, mouth and nose buried in the thick orange hair. Richard still had small trembles, his skin was cold from standing out in the rain for so long, and they both hoped he wouldn't wake up with a cold in the morning.

Then again, it would be impossible to tell.


End file.
